At the moment when Mrs.Crawley's step was heard upon the gravel which led to the door, Jane was kneeling before the fire with a hand upon her father's arm.

She had tried to get her hand into his, but he had either been unaware of the attempt, or had rejected it.
"Here is mamma, at last," said Jane, rising to her feet as her mother entered the house.
"Are you all in the dark ?" said Mrs.Crawley, striving to speak in a voice that should not be sorrowful.
"Yes, mamma; we are in the dark.

Papa is here.

Oh, mamma, how wet you are!" "Yes, dear.

It is raining.